


Pull Me Under

by BarqueBatch



Series: Stucky Bookclub Challenge [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bucky Barnes Returns, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, How the hell did this thing get to over 10k??, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Past Brainwashing, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Stucky Bookclub Challenge, Winter Soldier AU, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarqueBatch/pseuds/BarqueBatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky disappears after the helicarrier, Steve keeps searching for him. With his focus solely fixed upon finding Bucky, Steve doesn't see the danger until it's too late.</p><p>STUCKY BOOKCLUB CHALLENGE #3: Steve Rogers as The Winter Soldier (or variants)</p><p>NOTE: Now proofed! I have no idea why I changed tense toward the end but that's fixed. I blame sleep deprivation. I also tied up a thread I left loose though it was subtle. I felt it needed to be in there. Thanks for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull Me Under

**Author's Note:**

> _Ghost from the past_   
>  _Back from the dead_   
>  _Bury the memories_   
>  _Then dig them up again_   
>  _Haunting my head_   
>  _Losing control_   
>  _No holy water_   
>  _Could exorcise you from my soul_   
>  _I can't shake you_   
>  _I can't let you go_   
>  _I still see your face in my mind_   
>  _I can't move on_   
>  _Say you will pull me under_

Focus. Steve had to focus. It had been particularly hard to do so the last three months. Tony, Natasha and Fury only called him to handle certain problems and by no means did they allow him to be booked for any type of public functions. It wasn’t bad enough for him to endanger anyone but his head was definitely not in the game. 

There had to be a way to find Bucky. Three months ago he’d dumped Steve on the bank of the Potomac and disappeared. Despite popular myth, he wasn’t a ghost and he couldn’t hide forever. Not from Steve especially. He just had to pick up the scent a little faster; catch a break just a day sooner. Bucky might be brainwashed but they’d built their lies upon the foundation of who Bucky really was. Steve knew that man as well as he knew himself. It would be extremely difficult, but Steve knew it was just a matter of time. He had to just keep his nose to the wind.

Even before the fall, Bucky had been a clever, stealthy bastard. Being a soldier had come as easily to him as breathing; much easier than it had been for Steve. Steve was a good leader and morale booster, but Bucky was respected for what he didn’t do. He didn’t brag about his skills, despite his cockiness. He didn’t give warning when he threw a punch. He didn’t make a sound when he moved and no one ever saw him set up his sniper positions. Steve would only zero in on him after the first Hydra goon fell to one of Bucky’s bullets. 

After being held by Zola, the light in Bucky’s eyes had dimmed a bit. He became more somber and quiet. He drank more. Steve could never bring himself to say anything because Bucky was always on during the missions. His focus was razor sharp and he was the most lethal of the team. At times it was like he was two separate men. Put the rifle into his hands and once he was hunkered down on his belly his face and eyes went utterly cold. Steve could see the frigid hatred behind those clear blue eyes, and it always made him ache inside for his childhood friend. Maybe the Winter Soldier had been with Bucky all along. Maybe the serum just gave it dominance finally. His Bucky could always turn it off once a strong drink passed his mission-parched throat though. The gentle buzz would settle over him and the soft, sweet smile would return, even if it didn’t fully reach his friend’s eyes.

Friends… They became more than that a week before the fall. 

**********************************************************************

He’d set up his position atop a cliff. The fall wasn’t steep but it was rocky and treacherous. Steve wasn’t sure how he even managed to get up there without setting off a rock slide, but that was Bucky. Always light on his feet and agile as fuck. 

They’d thought the mission was done; that all the HYDRA soldiers were taken care of. Steve had just climbed the opposite cliff to survey the damage and look for anything useful they could take back to base. When the shot rang out, Steve had assumed Bucky was cleaning up a straggler. Instead he’d looked over to see Bucky tumbling down the rocky slope. He’d stood up and was shouldering his rifle when one of the HYDRA survivors regained consciousness and fired upon him. 

It felt like it took forever to reach Bucky, even with Steve’s enhanced speed. He was barely conscious when Steve dropped to his knees beside him and began looking him over for injuries. Thankfully Bucky’s coat was made by Howard’s people and it protected him from the bullet. The impact was what sent him reeling and the fall had banged him up solidly. His glazed eyes were just ice blue slits and his dazed muttering chilled Steve to his core.

“Three two five… five… seven zero… three eight…”

“Bucky stop it,” Steve had snapped at him, hating the reminder of the state he’d found Bucky in back at Zola’s lab. “Buck… look at me!”

Bucky’s eyes rolled over slowly until they focused upon Steve. Recognition settled in and his eyes finally cleared of their confusion. 

“‘M’alright,” he rasped, giving Steve a weak smirk. “Jus’ help me up…”

The damage was already done though; seeing Bucky injured again scared the hell out of Steve and he ended up confessing a few things to Bucky that the rest of the Commandos had pointedly ignored. 

Bucky certainly didn’t ignore them once his brain came back online and his coordination returned. Just as it had been after the 107th’s rescue, Bucky was relatively fine by the time they’d returned to their makeshift base. He still had some scrapes and bruises but he was walking upright and steady. Steady enough to shove Steve against the wall when he’d reached out in a more tender manner. He’d come at Steve like a starving animal and Steve had no problem with returning the fervor equally. They’d tried to be quiet and discreet, but it had been frantic, rough and clumsy between them. More than a few things ended up knocked over inside their claimed room at the bombed out monastery. As two soldiers they thought, moved and fought seamlessly, but as lovers they both struggled for dominance resulting in a stuttering rhythm. They collided and exploded in bursts of kissing and touching, then tripping or falling; grunts of frustration as they knocked the wind from one another in their desperate efforts to connect skin to skin.

*********************************************************

So deep in the memories of that night was Steve that he didn’t hear the enemy behind him until it was too late. The blow to the back of his head was brutal even for his enhanced body and it knocked him off balance enough for them to get in another hit. Then there was a sharp pain at the base of his neck.

Then nothing.

*********************************************************

Halloween, 2015

The man was begging. Actually begging for his life but the asset didn’t care. The man was cowered behind a concrete slab wall. The asset would go pluck him out from behind it but the security camera would catch his image before he could successfully take it out. His training dictated that he avoid being caught on any type of image, moving or still. So the target could either come out from behind the wall or the asset would shoot him through it. Simple change of weapon, but it would be louder. The carnival raging down Santa Monica Boulevard would mask a normal gunshot, but not his hand cannon. While he wasn’t particularly worried about getting out clean after the roar of the blast, there was something to be said for being able to calmly walk away. Running always ran the risk of drawing attention even if he did keep himself well hidden. 

“You come out now, I’ll make it quick. You don’t… trust me, you’ll wish you had.”

“Please… I have a family,” the man sobbed. “My boy is only six…”

The asset was unmoved. He’d heard this sort of thing before. Whether half of them were actually true or not was anyone’s guess and not his problem. People played any card they could to save their own ass. He’d been well conditioned to tune it out.

“You should have thought of that before you turned sides. You’ve got five seconds.”

There was a startling crash, a yelp, then the random sounds of debris settling. The asset frowned then charged forward. There was now enough smoke curling around the wall to obscure him from the camera. His eyes narrowed at the jagged, gaping hole in the opposite wall. A smudge of blood on the edge of the opening was likely that of his target. He knocked more of the flimsy drywall aside so he could fit his chest through the hole. Once he squeezed through, he surveyed the alleyway with critical eyes. Three feet to his right, another smear of blood pointed him in the right direction as his mind began to take stock of who might be able to snatch his target right from under his nose. 

The wall hadn’t been blown in. That posed danger to the target and the sound wasn’t loud enough. Nothing was singed from an explosive device. Someone had bodily thrown themselves through the wall. That narrowed it down to two possibilities, though the size of the hole and lack of paint transfer pointed more toward one than the other. Based upon what he knew of both enemies though, grab and dash didn’t fit either of their profiles. 

Was he facing an unknown? If so, it raised questions that he didn’t appreciate rolling around in his head during a mission. He was not to question ever. How was he supposed to not question though when there was suddenly an unknown factor glitching out his plans? HYDRA hadn’t briefed him which meant they didn’t know… or didn’t want _him_ to know which was even worse. HYDRA claimed to know all, see all, be everywhere all at once. They infiltrated everything. Which meant they should have warned him of this third possible problem.

As he moved silently down the alleyway, the asset heard the faint sound of footsteps running away. Only one of them and too frantic to be his adversary. He holstered his pistol and opted for a small semi with suppressor. At worst, the mostly drunk revelers would think they heard distant firecrackers, and small ones at that. He could silence the report further, but his gut told him this adversary would require him to be as accurate a shot as possible. It would have to be a head shot.

The asset continued down the alleyway, his pace slow and cautious as his eyes took in every detail ahead of him. He knew the other man was still here. He somehow sensed it, like the air was thicker around him; two entities just shy of brushing against one another as they studiously attempted to size each other up.

The contact finally made was anything but tentative brushing. His gun was kicked from his hand and he was brutally knocked backward. The asset staggered back but quickly zeroed in on his opponent. He blocked the next blow that came at him, his mind registering the strange lack of give in the flesh. Tactical gear, typical. Armed to the teeth, impressive. Mask… not as typical for the other side. He surged forward and caught the man around the waist, slamming him to the ground. The asset dealt several blows before he reached for his favored knife. It was a rare mistake for him. The man beneath him grabbed his throat and hurled him to the side. That caused him momentary confusion. No mere human should be able to throw him like a rag doll except the one they called Thor. 

He growled darkly as he again barreled toward his enemy, and he was certain he was about to gain a firm hold upon the man when suddenly he just didn’t. The man had done a strange sort of pirouette and evaded him. Mistake two, and a bad one at that because he was now pinned to the wall by the man’s forearm against his neck, his breathing severely impaired. There was a strange metal whining and whirring as his adversary held him firm against the stucco building. Even with his enhanced strength, the asset couldn’t break his hold and that just didn’t calculate at all. 

His enemy was about to choke him out rather than just kill him outright… Why did that seem… familiar?

“Steve! Look at me!”

The asset blinked at the muffled voice then darted his eyes about the alley. The black-clad warrior was alone that he could hear and see. Who was Steve? Why was that name ringing through his ears like a deafening bell? The asset tried to twist out of the hold again, further hindering his breathing and raising a sharp curse from his opponent.

“Goddamnit!” The warrior tore away his goggles and mask almost desperately. “Stop fighting me! I don’t wanna to hurt you!”

Was this idiot for real? Why wouldn’t he want to inflict whatever hurt he could? Even the asset’s handlers dealt in pain to teach and to inspire obedience. Why should a warrior of the opposing side be any different?

The asset’s blood chilled suddenly as he realized his opponent’s intent. He wanted the asset captured, not killed, but the asset was strictly programmed to never allow himself to be taken alive. He began to work at the small capsule imbedded in his molar.

The warrior pulled him away from the wall then slammed him backward. Chunks of stucco gave way behind his shoulders and head, enough to stutter his brain for a split second. It was all his opponent needed though. He pressed his body fully against the asset’s to hold him still then gripped the asset’s jaw with both hands to pry his mouth open.

“No no no, don’t you dare,” he snarled as he shoved unusually hard fingers into the asset’s mouth, and again the asset heard the odd metal whirring. “Don’t you fucking dare, Stevie, you fucking punk!”

 _You’re a punk…_

The asset’s head swam a bit with the more intimate nickname hurled at him. His jaw slacked unintentionally from the strange shock of it. 

The capsule was barely pried from his mouth before he regained focus and tried to clamp it shut. The warrior actually let him, but kept his body tight to the asset’s. His eyes searched the asset’s, though for what the asset couldn’t begin to figure out.

“Taught ya to be quicker with the cyanide,” the warrior growled distastefully. “Fuck them. You’re not going out like that, Steve. Not on my watch. You survived more sickness as a kid than you should have been able to. You survived being frozen for seventy goddamned years and you survived the fucking helicarrier. You are not dying some pansy-ass coward’s way out!”

The warrior punctuated his anger with a sharp heel to the asset’s shoulder and the asset managed to rasp out an immediate response.

“I’m no coward. My mission parameters are clear.”

“Fuck your mission parameters, Steve,” the warrior snarled but then quickly reeled in his tone of voice. His whole manner changed and the asset found himself more confused than ever. “It’s okay, pal… They didn’t have ya as long… We can fix this. You’re gonna be yourself again. They can’t have erased you as bad as they did me… They didn’t have ya long enough for that… I don’t have much missing anymore. You won’t either.”

The asset could only stare. Maybe it was the lessened oxygen flow but the warrior’s voice, now that he’d softened it, was almost lulling him. 

“Who are you,” he gasped at the warrior, still clutching at the continually calibrating arm. “Why’re you talking like you know me?”

“Because I do,” the soldier responded carefully, “and you know me…” His eyes grew even more intense as he stared back at the asset. “You’ve known me your whole life, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes you do,” the soldier cut in, stopping his words. The military bearing was shading his tone now, firm and resonating through the asset’s head. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes… You always called me-”

“Bucky,” the asset choked causing the soldier to nod and blink rapidly. Flashes of another life began firing across the asset’s vision, except he wasn’t just HYDRA’s asset. He had a name and while it felt odd to him, it sounded exactly right rolling off the soldier’s tongue. It felt warm and welcoming, safe. Bucky… 

_Jerk._

The soldier, Bucky, let out a shuddering laugh and tears actually welled in his eyes. The asset, no! Steve. His name was Steve! Steve realized he must have muttered the last to draw out the slightly pained laugh from Bucky. He released the tension against Steve’s neck and rubbed his flesh and blood fingers over the redness while still gripping Steve’s upper arm with his left hand.

“You’re gonna be okay, pal. Maybe not right away but I’m here. I got ya. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Figure what out?”

“Getting you better. Getting your memory back-” He didn’t have a chance to finish the sentence before Steve shoved him backward with a snarl. Bucky instantly went into a defensive stance but held his palms up and open to show he wasn’t going to retaliate. All Steve knew was the sinking, panicked feeling expanding in his gut at the mention of his memories returning.

“No!”

“You don’t want to get better or you don’t want your memories back,” Bucky asked him carefully, making sure to keep still and non-threatening.

“There’s nothing to get better. I don’t _need_ any memories to come back,” Steve snapped at him. Just saying it made the sickening feeling in his gut ease off. Bucky nodded slowly, keeping his hands up and away from his weapons.

“Okay… you don’t need them… Don’t you _want_ them though? Aren’t the gaps annoying?”

“No,” Steve lied, feeling even more unsettled by how easily he thought of himself as Steve now; how well the name slid over him like a second skin and settled into his pores.

“What if there’s something important in there that could keep you safe?”

“I’m an expendable weapon.” The words rolled too quickly off his tongue and he saw Bucky noticeably flinch as he said them. “All that matters is the mission. I don’t need memories or a name to complete an objective.”

Again, Bucky nodded, seeming to weigh Steve’s words internally. His eyes re-focused upon Steve’s and he almost shrugged. “Did HYDRA tell you about me?”

The asset _Steve!_ blinked back at the soldier _Bucky!_ as he tried to decide how to answer. Admitting that they hadn’t seemed like a betrayal, but it felt like a betrayal to not be warned about this man. The lack of answer was apparently answer enough for Bucky.

“Uh huh… So they don’t tell you your name, they don’t want you remembering your past, and they didn’t bother to warn you that I would be here… and don’t kid yourself; they knew I would interfere in your mission. I’ve scuttled every major mission they’ve attempted since the helicarrier-”

“I’ve completed nine missions in four months,” the asset corrected, not cocky, but definitely offended and defensive.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched upward. “None of which were major missions, Steve. You’re new and considered unstable. None of your missions have been on American soil until tonight. Baby steps until they feel they have absolute control over you.” He shook his head sadly, his eyes guilty as they searched the asset’s. “I’m sorry. I know they took you and did this to you to get to me. They obviously stepped up their methods because I wouldn’t expect them to have you out on missions so fast… but I’m hoping that’s a good thing; that it’ll all crack easier because of the shorter time…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t care.” The feeling in his stomach was returning; churning in a way that made him feel almost sick.

“Let me ask you something,” Bucky spoke softly, as if he could almost read the asset’s mind. “When I mentioned getting your memories back… did you start to feel something in your gut…? Like you’re falling? Like something bad would happen?” He tilted his head to the side as he studied the asset’s eyes even more intently. “That’s programming. That’s to make you not question them. They don’t want you to have a name because your name would help you remember. They didn’t tell you about me because they knew I would jog your memories. They don’t want you to remember because if you did, you would stop following their orders and fight with everything in you to bring them down and crush every last one of them… for what they did to you and what they did to me.”

“You…?” Confused images again. An army uniform with a crooked hat perched atop dark, immaculate hair. A floating car. Pencils and lead smudges on his fingertips. A bright blue double-breasted coat that had no real place in the monochrome, leafless woods. A train speeding down snowy tracks. A small man rolling under a tank to attach a bomb. An brownstone apartment, sparsely furnished. Red flowing hair. Falling backward with flaming debris following him down. Soft, full lips upon his own.

“They took me from you,” Bucky murmured, edging sideways toward one of the dumpsters, “and then they took you from me… but they’re not going to get away with it, Stevie.”

The movement jerked the asset from the flashes behind his eyes and he tensed, his eyes narrowing in warning at Bucky.

“It’s okay pal,” he soothed, “just need you to see something.”

The asset hunched down slightly and he realized he’d already pulled his knife, the edges of its grip digging into his palm. Bucky stopped moving and raised his hands a bit more. He pointed to the shadow cast by the dumpster.

“Go ahead. Check it yourself. I’ll even do this…” He lowered himself to his knees and intertwined his fingers behind his head. The asset had already seen this soldier in action so he didn’t fool himself about how fast the man could move even from that position. He was still armed to the teeth and didn’t even _need_ to move but a fraction. The position was a gesture, nothing more.

Keeping the soldier within his peripheral, the asset moved toward what looked like a garbage can lid before his eyes better adjusted. It was smooth and slightly concave with two leather straps in the center and a small, magnetic catch on one side. He picked it up and was surprised by its weight, given its size. When he spun it around to further examine it, the pattern on the front nearly caused him to drop it. His mind showed him glimpses of HYDRA soldiers being taken out by the spinning disc. The same disc hurled toward him on a darkened rooftop. Metal fingers clutching it in broad daylight. Ice blue eyes peering over it, partially obscured by dark, long hair. The same hair and eyes that were at his seven o’clock right now.

“This is yours,” the asset accused, but the soldier shook his head.

“No, Steve, it’s yours.”

“You’re lying. You were holding it before… on a bridge. You threw it at me on a rooftop.”

Again the soldier flinched. 

“On the roof, you threw it first. I threw it back. You dropped it on the bridge and I picked it up. I never used it against you or anyone else. I lodged it in the side of a van instead. Try again, Steve. Try to remember.”

The asset flicked his eyes back to the disc _shield_. His fingers moved to unconsciously trace the pattern of the white star in its center. Like a target… A target on his back. Ducking behind it and hearing the ringing in his ears as bullets bounced harmlessly from it. Shielding a bright blue coat… and then red hair… Feeling the pop of ribs as he landed atop it after falling too far. Leaping through a window and hurling it with all his might at a running figure with a metal arm. Feeling the ache in his shoulders as the figure turned and hurled it back then disappeared. Hearing circuits crunch beneath its edge then hurling a body backward. Seeing a black mask hit the ground. Seeing cold, blue eyes turned upon him.

“Bucky,” Steve echoed the vision as it happened. 

“Who the hell’s Bucky?” The soldier answered in perfect unison with what played through Steve’s head. He shook his head. A winged man had knocked Bucky down and then a blast… and then agents taking him into custody. SHIELD agents. 

The assets eyes hardened again. “I was arrested by SHIELD agents on the bridge.”

“They were _not_ SHIELD,” Bucky frowned with a shake of his head. “They were HYDRA infiltrators acting under Alexander Pierce. They had me under their control then. The man with the winged jetpack, the redhead, Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanov… even Nick Fury – They were SHIELD and they were your friends. They’re Captain America’s friends. They _are_ your friends, Steve.”

“Stop _lying_!”

“Got no reason to lie to you, Stevie,” the soldier sighed, his fingers still laced behind his head. “I’ve never lied to you.” He blinked then lowered his eyes. “Well there was one time when you asked me how I got your medicine when you had pneumonia, but only because you wouldn’t have liked me winning the money in a poker game.”

A pile of threadbare blankets tucked around his body. Lumpy mattress beneath him. Muscle aches and a weight in his chest that he never wanted to feel again. A soft cloth dabbing sweat from his brow. Long, agile fingers brushing hair from his eyes. Those same fingers squeezing a pump for thirty minutes at a time to force air into his lungs. The blue eyes again, except in this flash they were gentle and worried as they stared back at him.

“Why,” Steve asked, his voice creaking with the strain of the memory. He needed to know why this was all collapsing around him. The soldier _Bucky_ misunderstood his question though.

“Because I’m with ya ‘til the end of the line, pal.”

Steve thought he might actually be sick then. He staggered backward and dropped the shield. The sharp clang of the metal as it landed against the dumpster startled him and he backed into the wall. He reached out to keep himself from falling and heard Bucky’s voice as if below water. 

“Steve… Steve sit down for a second… Breathe, Steve! It’ll pass! Just breathe!”

He saw Bucky rise to his feet and panic surged through him again. 

“Get away from me,” he screamed and bolted past Bucky, knocking him against the alley wall. The phrase had set off a tidal wave of images and feelings that he couldn’t cope with all at once. He had to get away from all of it. He had to find a bolthole that wasn’t HYDRA’s. He needed peace and quiet to deal with the maelstrom in his head. He needed to figure out who to trust.

*******************************************************

_Going to head him off at the end of the street-_

“NO! Stand down,” Bucky snapped harshly into his comm. “Let him go. I’ll shadow him but he needs to work through this himself. Do not engage him, do you understand me?”

_You sure about this, man?_

“Yeah, Wilson, I’m sure. We can’t force this,” Bucky responded, quieting his voice as he moved from the alley in pursuit of Steve. “Pick up his shield, will ya?”

 _You mean get a tow truck to drag it back to base,_ came the grunt of annoyance. _I can barely lift that shit._

“Wimp.”

 _Yeah okay, Mr. Super Serum 2.0._ The sarcasm fell away from Sam’s voice quickly though. _Don’t worry, man, I got it. Just look out for Steve._

“I always do.”

_I dunno, Barnes. It took a lot more to shake me free of brainwashing than this. Maybe we should-_

“No, Barton. What Loki did to you was entirely different than what HYDRA did to me an’ Steve. You need to let me handle this.”

 _Hope you know what you’re doing. You are our only expert,_ Barton groaned begrudgingly. 

“Yeah, unfortunately I fucking am,” Bucky muttered. “Romanov…? Local security feeds. I need them like yesterday.”

 _Already on it,_ her voice purred into his ear. _You should be getting the first three now, though I doubt he’ll show up on them. He’ll be avoiding camera feeds per their protocol._

“Not right now he won’t.” Bucky eyed a scatter of disrupted boxes outside a restaurant’s back door. His wrist beeped and he pushed his jacket sleeve back to view the small screen. It showed him a visual of Steve coming through this very alleyway and stumbling sideways into the boxes. Bucky knew exactly what was happening to Steve right now and he had to bite back the blinding rage that threatened to cloud his vision and impair his judgment. He had to let himself retreat back into Winter Soldier mode to stay detached at least enough to keep up with Steve. If he let emotions well too far up the anger would take over and he’d miss things. Missing things would cost him Steve because HYDRA would come looking for Steve just as they had Bucky. While Bucky had decades to break free from, he had no way of knowing what other fail safes HYDRA had tried to implement into Steve’s mind. The cyanide capsule he’d pulled from Steve’s mouth had left chemical burns in the tips of his gloves which was why he’d pulled it with his left hand. There was something laced in with the cyanide that was even more acidic and deadly which meant HYDRA was grasping desperately at new methods to keep their soldiers in line, and if not in line, then very dead.

“Going silent,” he whispered. “Will report back as discussed.”

None of the voices on the other end of his comm bothered to respond. Everyone knew their jobs now.

********************************************************

November 5th, 2015

Bucky watched the brownstone through high-powered night vision goggles, making minute adjustments with his right index finger. His view cleared as he watched Steve slowly casing the building from the street below. He kept to the shadows, but not so much as to raise suspicion. Bucky couldn’t help a hint of a smile gracing his lips. Take Captain America and give him HYDRA training then give him back his moral compass. It was actually a pleasure to watch him slip into the building as he did. Steve could’ve done it just fine, but with the asset's training his approach was far more refined now. He wasn’t at Bucky’s level, no, but Bucky hoped and prayed he never would be. Even in that alleyway four days ago, Steve still had far more humanity in him than Bucky ended up having during his time as the Winter Soldier. He could see Steve sinking further into the programming the last few days, but it was to protect himself rather than just falling back upon standing orders.

His eyes drew upward to Steve’s apartment windows. Beyond the one that framed Steve’s bedroom, Bucky picked up on the faint glow of infrared. It would be invisible to the human eye but his own enhanced eyes, helped along by the goggles, picked it up clearly. A tiny beep sounded in his ear to warn him that Steve’s hidden safe had been breached. A safe that held accounts under false identities that even SHIELD didn’t know about. He’d found the safe and traced the accounts to overseas right after Steve went missing. Again he smiled to himself.

“Good boy, Stevie. Good boy.”

*******************************************************

November 30th, 2015

The cabin was well-hidden by its surroundings. Three sides of the property faced out over a sheer cliff, the cabin having been built in the cradle of a crescent turn in the river below. Old growth trees protected the front of the cabin, making it invisible to anything further than one hundred and thirty meters away. At night, that visibility dropped substantially, especially when Steve only used one or two low wattage lights at any given time. Right now it was early morning though, and Bucky watched with yet another soft smile as Steve set up perimeter alarms and snares about the newly acquired property. His money had nearly a lifetime to accumulate interest in the various accounts he’d set up. Why exactly he’d done it before Bucky had fallen from the train was a mystery. Bucky assumed that Peggy had helped Steve do it, but the reasons behind it intrigued him. He had to believe he’d eventually get his chance to ask.

He was in no danger of being detected. He’d set up a blind in the trees across the river. His indispensable goggles kept the sun’s glare from his eyes and zoomed his view in so that he might as well have been standing beside Steve.

Later this week he would set up a second, closer blind in the trees near the cabin when Steve went for supplies.

************************************************************

December 6th, 2015

Bucky clenched his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to the tree trunk as Steve screamed in terror in his sleep. Everything in him wanted to leave his perch and go to Steve to comfort him, but he knew better. Steve would work through it and Bucky couldn’t give up his position for anything. Steve would likely realize he was there soon enough and he’d have to fall back to the less ideal first blind when Steve tightened his defensive perimeter.

He knew this. It didn’t make it any easier to endure or follow through.

*************************************************************

December 18th, 2015

_I’m not stupid, Barnes. Get out of my fucking trees and leave me alone._

Well that hadn’t taken nearly as long as Bucky had guessed. He couldn’t help but cringe a little at Steve calling him by his last name, something he’d only done once before and the bellowing argument that brought it on had been the worst of their friendship before Bucky fell.

**What gave me away?**

_Birds and squirrels are avoiding your tree like the plague and the snow melts faster around you._

Steve always did have a good sense of that sort of thing. He remembered Steve occasionally stopping short and hurling his shield at a tree to knock down an enemy soldier.

**Good catch, Stevie. Can’t leave you entirely alone though.**

_You can and you will or I swear to God I’ll cut the fucking tree out from under you._ The vitriol that came screaming through Bucky’s screen surprised even him. It sounded far more like something he’d say than Steve, but he had to remind himself that this wasn’t his old Steve anymore. This wasn’t even Captain America right now. This was a wounded warrior trying to heal and feeling violated.

 **Take a breath, pal. Not monitoring you just watching your back. You know they’ll come eventually and when they do I’ll be at your six.** Bucky sent the text and waited. His eyes went a little wide when he read the instant response that pinged back.

_No you’ll do what I told you and fuck off._

**Wow. Language, Stevie.** He knew it probably wasn’t the best response to send, but a part of him needed to bust Steve’s chops just a bit after all the times he’d chided Bucky about his own language when any war correspondents were hanging about filming their every move.

_Fuck you, Bucky. Fuck off._

Well at least it got Steve back to calling him Bucky again. He’d take the tiny victory in that.

**I’ll back off out of your immediate but I’m not leaving.**

_I left you alone when you took off. I respected your space._

“No you didn’t, you lil shit,” Bucky muttered, his breath puffing out into a frozen cloud as he typed his retort. 

**Clearly we remember last year a lot differently.**

_I mean it, Bucky._

**I know you do but sorry pal, not gonna happen. I know I’m pissing you off. It pissed me off before but I still felt better having you following me around than being completely alone.**

No response came back so he typed further until he hit SEND by accident. **Having you a day or two behind me was**

_Creepy._

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh softly as he finished his thought. **But strangely comforting too.**

_I know you can get across the river quickly. Fall back._

_I mean it._

_Please._

The last sent Bucky’s eyebrows craning upward. That was a desperate compromise on Steve’s part and he had to respect it as much as he disliked it. 

**Fine, kid, since you asked so nicely. :)**

_Asshole._

Well that was new. Clearly much of Steve’s memory had returned; Bucky could tell by the way Steve communicated with him. The stubbornness was definitely back; Steve would rather call him an asshole than a jerk because that was moving back into more intimate territory between them. It was fine though. He could wait while Steve pulled himself back together. Even if they never regained what they had before, it was enough to know that Steve was alive and back under his own control.

**Never claimed to be anything else, punk.**

*****************************************************************

December 31st, 2015

The crash of glass and the anguished scream jarred Bucky from the waking nap he’d slipped into. That was no nightmare and it took him no time to yank the safety harness and mask free then drop the forty feet separating him from the ground. He hadn’t gone back to the first blind across the river. Instead he’d chosen a tree further back into the woods where Steve wouldn’t notice irate squirrels or birds. He still had a clear view of the cabin and the tiny bug he’d planted on the porch allowed his sensitive ears enough of a boost to hear anything loud enough to cause concern.

Bucky sprinted to the cabin and slowed just in time to silence his footfalls upon the steps. He remained still by the door and window but heard nothing. It was likely Steve was having an episode, but two months of holding vigil in a tree was wearing badly upon Bucky. He only came down to deal with personal needs and stretch his legs. He’d stopped having to pick up supplies from the drop point he and Sam agreed upon because, while Steve didn’t want to openly acknowledge Bucky being there, he was apparently okay with leaving coffee and food on a small outcropping of rocks roughly one hundred meters away from Bucky’s tree. It was Steve’s type of truce and told Bucky everything he needed to know about the state of Steve’s mind right now. The memories were back and with it the bone-deep guilt. The kind of guilt that ate a person alive if they didn’t find a way to work through it. Bucky would know. He wore the harness in the tree because he still had plenty of nightmares that jerked him violently awake and would have thrown him to the ground otherwise. He still wore the mask for the same reason; with a single touch to a button near the strap, it nearly silenced his own desperate screams when they happened.

Bucky was both the best and worst possible person available to watch over Steve during his recovery.

The wisdom of his actions right now as he silently entered the cabin was debatable. He didn’t call out to Steve; if there was an intruder the last thing he intended to do was announce himself and his position. Steve would know he was here by knowing every minuscule creak and groan this cabin gave off within the first week he lived here.

Bucky paused near the kitchen. Across the cheery room the trash can was full of vodka bottles. It wasn’t impossible to get either of them drunk. It would take a small city's distillery to do it, but it wasn’t impossible. What was in the trash can would kill a football team but this sadly wasn’t even close to being enough to do anything to Steve. His metabolism was even higher than Bucky’s. It was sad because Bucky knew exactly what was going on now. It explained the shattering glass and the scream of frustration. It would be a small mercy to be able to forget even for a little while; to blur the jagged edges with a good, solid drunk. Bucky’d done it plenty before the fall, back when he only had the weak version of the serum in his veins. Just enough to kill the ache but not enough to dull his senses when he was needed the next day. He usually kept it to right after a mission when things were more likely to trigger him. To his credit, Steve never lectured him. Bucky would be damned if he lectured Steve now.

Bucky lowered his gun and his voice. “Steve…?”

The only answer that came was when he rounded the corner of the living room. The popping of the fireplace barely registered before he was thrown against the wall, the wood beams cracking in protest behind his back and skull. It knocked the wind from him and made his vision spin just long enough for a forearm to find his neck.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this, Stevie,” he barely choked past the pressure on his larynx. Bucky hated being pinned like this. Every instinct was screaming to kick in and free himself but he forced himself to keep looking into Steve’s eyes in an effort to keep himself grounded. He couldn’t allow himself to fall into a flashback or rage trance. Steve didn’t move, didn’t give one inch of relief as he panted hard and fast through his nose. He actually pressed closer, lining Bucky’s body with his own, though the look in his eyes told Bucky it wasn’t to restrain him.

“I just wanted to forget for a night,” Steve muttered brokenly, his voice softer than his stance would have suggested. “Just one fucking night…”

“I know,” Bucky wheezed, causing Steve to really look at him. He backed off the pressure and Bucky tried to suck in a deep breath without being too obvious. At least his reddened face wouldn’t be as noticeable in the low firelight.

“Is this why you did it after… before Zola’s train?”

“Yeah… I could get drunk back then. Can’t now.”

“And now everything's even worse…”

Bucky saw no benefit in lying to Steve. Not here. Not in this moment when he needed to know he wasn’t some damaged freak with no hope of redemption or healing.

“Yeah, Steve. It is.”

Steve dropped his forehead to Bucky’s shoulder as his own shoulders slumped in defeat. “How…? How do you deal with it, Buck? How is it not driving you insane?”

“You.”

Steve drew his face back and stared blankly at Bucky. “Me?”

Bucky slowly lifted his right hand to the back of Steve’s neck and squeezed gently. “Yeah, you. You were still here and you still wanted me around. I had to get myself right for you… because I don’t wanna be away from you again. I don’t want to have to worry about being a danger to you. It’s all the motivation I need, pal. I wanted to get better for you. I can’t protect you if I’m too fucked up to function.”

Steve stared back at Bucky, his eyes wide with awe. It was the same way young Steve used to look at him, though back then he hadn't understood that it was more than just hero worship. It was the way he’d looked at Bucky that night in the monastery. 

“I don’t want your protection. I just wanna forget. I want you to help me forget.”

“Steve-”

“Don’t coddle me, damn it,” Steve hissed, anger seeping back into his words. “You know I’m not drunk. I know what I’m asking. I remember it… this… us.”

Bucky wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Probably a colossally stupid idea, but he remembered the times he’d been tempted to pick up a girl just to try to turn his brain off for a little while. Ultimately he’d just gone to bed alone. There was the whole metal arm issue and, more importantly, they weren’t Steve. There was no point. No one could shut his brain down and take him apart the way Steve had. If he had been there, if the possibility had been there during his darkest days after the helicarrier, would he have asked for the same? Probably, but that didn’t mean it was the best thing for Steve. For either of them.

“Just tonight, Buck… please,” Steve murmured, his eyes focused upon Bucky’s as he took Bucky’s silence as a refusal.

“I don’t know if-”

Steve didn’t let Bucky get anymore words out as he surged forward and pressed their lips together. His hands cupped the sides of Bucky’s face as he sucked pleadingly at Bucky’s bottom lip then along his jawline. There was no mistaking the desperation behind it despite the gentleness.

“Steve wait.”

Steve pulled back and pressed his lips back to Bucky’s. “Shut up,” he whispered against the softness, his breath still tinged with Grey Goose. “I need you, Bucky. Just shut up and take care of me.”

Bucky needed Steve just as badly but he was managing to keep his head on straight until Steve pushed his erection against Bucky’s. His black fatigues did nothing to dull the pressure or the jolt of arousal it set off. He couldn’t kid himself; if this had been an offer on the table when Bucky was in hiding, Bucky would have taken it. He would have taken anything Steve could give him. The last year hadn’t changed that at all. If anything it brought his want into sharper focus.

“I’m trying to help you,” he gritted, his head falling back as Steve rutted against him.

“Then help me,” Steve shrugged, bending down to mark Bucky’s neck with his teeth. “Do this for me… for us. If you felt like this when you were alone, then we’re both long overdue.” He nipped another mark closer to Bucky’s nape, causing Bucky’s hips to snap forward before he could help himself.

“Jesus, Stevie…”

“Just Steve, thanks,” came the smart-assed retort and Bucky groaned in defeat. It would take a much better, stronger man to refuse this. It had been so long and he couldn’t remember ever wanting Steve more than he did right now.

“Anything sets either of us off, you have to promise we stop immediately.”

Steve pulled away from Bucky’s skin with a filthy pop of his wet lips. He looked Bucky solemnly in the eye and nodded. “I promise.”

Bucky spun him around and pushed him against the wall. He’d never try this if Steve had reacted any differently in that alleyway. He closed the distance between them and initiated the kiss this time. His left hand rested firmly upon Steve’s hip as his right came back up to again grip the back of Steve’s neck. His index finger traced calming circles through Steve’s hairline and Steve whimpered appreciatively at the contact. Bucky kept the kiss going for a few minutes before he slowly drew away and gave Steve’s neck a light squeeze.

“Help me check the place… then we can pick this back up.”

Relief replaced the fear that had clouded Steve’s eyes when Bucky had pulled back and he nodded. “Okay.”

They stayed side by side as they methodically went through each room and checked every door, every window, and every concealed wire that would set all hell loose if cut or disconnected. They could have split up and taken the rooms individually, but hyper-awareness didn’t allow that luxury. They both needed to see every detail with their own eyes to feel like the cabin was properly secured, so they may as well do it as a single unit. Steve turned his eyes to Bucky’s after the last window and reached out to hook his finger under the holster strap crossing Bucky’s chest. He turned toward the stairs and Bucky allowed Steve to tug him along as Steve led him to the bedroom. 

When they entered the room, a faint smile plied Bucky’s lips. The bed had been slept upon, but so had the floor. The pile of blankets and pillows away from the door and window illustrated what Bucky had fought with himself. Too soft a mattress just didn’t feel right. Maybe when they were old and grey they could rethink the choice to crash on the floor. If they even made it to grey hair. Bucky had never expected to survive the war anyway. This day and age wasn’t any less dangerous for them. If anything it was more dangerous. HYDRA would never back down until they were eradicated. So that’s what they would have to do.

But not now. Not tonight.

Not when Steve had secured the door and was now crossing back to Bucky and beginning to slowly remove each of his holsters. The faith and trust it took for Bucky to allow this was monumental. Had it been anyone else, he knew it would be a different story. This was Steve though. His Steve. Steve who almost reverently set those holsters down next to the bed then came back to unfasten all the snaps on Bucky’s jacket. He eased it over the metal arm after Bucky shrugged his right arm free and Bucky caught the soft smile that touched Steve’s lips.

“What,” he asked, his voice hoarse from the anticipation he felt.

“The sounds your arm makes,” he grinned. “Confused the hell outta me in the alleyway.”

“Sorry. I don’t even notice it unless something starts sounding different,” Bucky muttered. The plates on his bicep shifted and tightened as his shoulders tensed self-consciously. Steve ran his fingers over the plates then leaned over to press his lips to Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky felt pressure and temperature, though not pain. Receptors told him if he sustained critical damage. In the early days after it was attached, he thought he’d go mad with sensory overload from all the circuits reporting to his brain. Gradually it became bearable with only extreme damage or pressure overwhelming him. 

This? This was definitely doable. 

“You came after me,” Steve murmured as he continued to map Bucky’s arm with his fingertips.

“Of course I did,” Bucky frowned, confused by Steve’s statement. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Steve didn’t meet his eyes. “You pulled me from the Potomac… but then you left me there. You stayed hidden. I wasn’t sure if you’d remembered or reverted. I didn’t know what to think other than I had to find you and make sure you were okay.”

Bucky wanted to launch into a firm lecture over Steve neglecting his own personal safety in the process but now was not the time for it. “I didn’t remember right away. I remembered enough of you to know I couldn’t let you die… but I couldn’t stay either. I knew HYDRA would come looking for me and I needed to get away from you. I drained the emergency accounts set up for missions before HYDRA could. I went to the Smithsonian… It all started to really crumble then. I was overwhelmed and I needed to go to ground. I holed up in the city and kept to myself until the nightmares got the neighbors talking too much then I’d move to a new spot. It was that way until Romanov found me to tell me you’d been captured.”

“Just like that, Natasha found you,” Steve balked. Bucky just shrugged.

“Sorry pal, she’s a better tracker than you’ll ever be.”

“Coulda used that help before.”

“And she wouldn’t have given it,” Bucky replied evenly. “She understands needing to hide. She never questioned my decision to let you run from that alleyway.”

“You knew how to find me,” Steve wondered aloud. “Was that because of HYDRA’s training?”

“Not all of it,” Bucky sighed. “I know the training… but I also know you. I had a better idea of how you’d handle variables thrown at you. I just fell back on that.”

“You got through to me.”

“And you got through to me,” came Bucky’s whispered reply. “We’re always gonna do that, Steve. We’re always gonna find each other and protect one another. No point arguing about it or fighting it. It’s just who we’re always gonna be.”

“'Til the end of the line,” Steve grunted and Bucky nodded with a soft smirk.

“'Til the end of the line, yeah.”

Steve pulled Bucky’s black thermal over his head and chuckled softly. Bucky frowned at him and Steve only smiled as he reached up to tame Bucky’s now static-charged hair. Bucky scowled, suddenly feeling nowhere near the suave charmer he used to be. Steve wasn't about to let him drift into that sort of funk though.

“Stop it, Buck,” he whispered, angling in to capture Bucky’s mouth again. Bucky’s eyes closed, but his brows remained furrowed. Steve pulled back and gently ran his thumb over the lines to smooth them away. “Stop,” he repeated. “I’m just as awed by you now as I’ve ever been. Maybe even more.”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he felt blood rush to his cheeks the way it was now. Maybe the monastery. Maybe longer. He grabbed Steve’s face and began to devour his lips. Steve responded enthusiastically, reaching for the zip of Bucky’s pants. Bucky began edging Steve backward until his legs hit the side of the bed. He gave Steve a light push and Steve willingly fell backward. He scooted further onto the bed as Bucky slowly pursued him, pulling off his own sweater and undershirt. Bucky was on all fours on the bed, hovering over Steve when he paused. His eyes roamed the expanse of Steve’s chest and then his eyes flicked upward, silently asking permission to keep going. Steve pulled him close and kissed him.

“I’m fine.”

Clearing his throat of the knot that kept trying to close off his voice, Bucky nodded and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. “Pants,” he grunted with a pointed glance to Steve’s jeans as he quickly unbuckled and unlaced his boots. Steve had wriggled from his jeans by the time Bucky finished. He shoved his own pants off then turned to crawl back over the body that was both so familiar yet so new again. His eyes darted to the bedside and wondered if it was even a possibility that Steve might have lubricant close by. 

“You uh… got anything handy?”

Steve blinked at him then groaned, his eyes closing as his head fell back to the mattress. “Fuck my life,” he sighed. Bucky’s eyes nearly fell from their sockets.

“Who the hell taught you that.. Romanov?”

“Nah… Agent Hill,” Steve huffed. He held his hands up helplessly. “I don’t have… at least not…”

“It’s okay… I’ve got something that’ll get us by.” Bucky crawled from the bed and picked up his holster. One of the smaller pouches held a small tube of Vaseline. “Lucky for you I’ve been camping in your tree for two months. Needed something to stop the windburn and chapping.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologized sincerely. “I shouldn’t have made you stay out there.”

“Yeah you still make the worst coffee in the world, punk,” Bucky muttered, not wanting the tone to go too somber again. “Your omelettes are a lot better though.”

Steve took the hint for what it was as Bucky tucked the tube into a fold in the sheets near Steve’s leg. He started nipping at the inside of Steve’s thigh, slowly working his way up. Steve shivered and let his head fall back for a minute before lifting it again.

“God, Buck… don’t tease me. Not tonight.”

Bucky’s eyes shifted to pierce Steve with a look through his dark lashes. “Stop thinking. That’s what you wanted. That’s what’s gonna happen. Lay back and relax, Steve. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Steve continued to watch Bucky until he began to suck a particularly eager mark into his flesh near his groin. His eyes rolled back and he let his head fall slack against the mattress again. Bucky licked along the length of Steve’s cock, holding the violent arch and jerk of his hips at back with his hands.

“Easy,” he soothed as Steve breathed through his nose with his eyes tightly closed. “Relax.”

“Bucky, I’m not… I won’t-”

“I know,” Bucky whispered as he stroked Steve’s torso and thigh with his right hand. “I won’t either. It’s been too long and I want you too much. It doesn’t matter, Stevie. We’ve got all night. Don’t worry about it.”

Steve bit at his lip and nodded so Bucky again licked at him. Steve shivered and clenched his hands into the sheets. Bucky pulled one free and placed it to the back of his head. Steve’s fingers curled into his hair and Bucky growled softly at the cautious tug upon his scalp. He pulled Steve’s erection upright and slowly sucked it into his mouth as far as he could. Steve gasped and his fingers tightened. Bucky felt the spasm in Steve’s hips but held him still. He kept his mouth around Steve, gently pulsing his tongue against the frenulum until Steve regained a bit of composure and settled. He moved his lips over Steve’s shaft then, setting a pace to build him up but not set him off. He reached for the Vaseline tube and squeezed some onto his fingertips. His metal hand was no real help in this area so he hoped the chill wouldn’t be to off-putting. He circled Steve’s entry with his index finger then slowly pushed in. A soft, strangled cry escaped Steve and soon he was writhing beneath Bucky’s attentions. 

Bucky slowly prepared him, backing off when he needed to. He rolled his own hips against the mattress, trying desperately to ignore his own ache until he knew Steve was ready for him. He didn’t dare touch himself; the sounds Steve kept making were nearly driving him over the edge as it was. 

His jaw was just beginning to ache when Steve tugged sharply upon his hair. “Bucky… please…”

His breathing heavier, Bucky released Steve and sat back to squeeze more of the Vaseline onto himself. He spread it with his palm then reached out to coat Steve with the excess. Steve arched into his touch and actually whined impatiently. Bucky leaned over the side of the bed and wiped his hand off on his discarded pants. He eased over Steve and gazed down at the man who meant everything to him.

“Shhh,” he breathed, leaning down to kiss Steve. “Breathe, Stevie…”

Steve arched up toward him but quieted as Bucky continued to kiss him. Bucky reached between them and positioned himself. He hooked his arms under Steve’s shoulders and slowly pushed inside, never breaking their kiss. Steve gasped and groaned into his mouth but made no move to slow him down or stop him. If anything, he pulled his knee up against Bucky’s torso and tried to urge him on. Bucky finally seated himself fully and had to bury his face against Steve’s neck as he tried to get his heart to stop racing.

“Gimme a second,” he called to Steve, his voice breaking. Steve was fighting his own battle to stay in control so he stroked Bucky’s back lovingly.

“It’s okay, Buck,” he murmured, “I got ya.”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed softly against his neck. “Yeah ya do… always have.”

Steve pressed tender kisses to Bucky’s temple and reached up to smooth the sheen of sweat from his brow. Bucky finally opened his eyes and shifted to catch Steve’s lips again. Even though the reprieve helped, he felt like he needed to make a disclaimer again.

“This probably isn’t gonna take long,” he rasped against Steve’s mouth.

“We’ve got all night,” Steve reminded him.

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled back at him, still brushing Steve’s lips lightly with his own. He allowed himself to start moving and it was almost immediately too much. A beautiful, rolling groan of pleasure erupted from Steve though, and Bucky knows he couldn’t stop now if he had to. 

“Aw fuck,” he gasped against Steve’s neck. He could already feel Steve tightening around him and for a moment he’s annoyed that he’s only got the stamina of a kid just hitting puberty right now. It was only a fleeting thought as he managed to hit just the right angle and then Steve’s orgasm hit him, his cock spurting untouched between them. Bucky couldn’t even be bothered to care about the mess as the undulations rolling through Steve’s body gave him the final push over the edge. He pushed fully into Steve and collapsed onto his chest as his whole body shook with his release. He felt Steve shuddering below him and tried to wrap his arms around him as best as he could. 

They remained unmoving and not speaking for a long time before the stickiness became too much to ignore. Bucky slowly pulled himself upright and again reached over to grab his underwear to clean them both off.

“Should I go back to my tree in the morning,” he teased lightly enough that he could swing it either way depending upon what Steve needed from him. When he didn't get an immediate response, he frowned and looked up at Steve’s face. A tear had left its trail from the corner of Steve's eye but hadn’t slid fully from his temple.

“Steve? Hey… what is it?” The pit in his gut hurt like hell. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if Steve was already regretting his decision.

“No, I don’t want you back in the tree,” Steve whispered almost too quietly. “I don’t want you to go anywhere. I need you here with me. We’ve lost so much time, Buck. I don’t want to lose anymore. I love you. I’ve always loved you and I need you to stay with me because I couldn’t take losing you all over again.”

Bucky crawled up quickly to draw Steve close, propping his blonde head upon his flesh and bone arm. “I’m not leaving. If this is what you want, this is what’ll happen. What we do, we do together. Be sure you’re ready for me to be in your face though because I really won’t leave. You won’t be able to get rid of me. I’m gonna bitch at you about pulling stupid shit just like the old days.”

“Good, that’s exactly what I want,” Steve nodded, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist. “So we clear out HYDRA and then what… retire to Tahiti?”

“Hell no,” Bucky groaned, gesturing to his arm. “Not much for tanks and shorts and I have no idea what saltwater will do to my arm over the long haul.”

“We could have Tony saltproof it,” Steve grinned.

“Not interested in scaring people at the beach, Steve,” Bucky grunted even though he’d always loved the water as a kid. “And I’m not flying back to New York with a gimp arm if it overheats.”

“You know that Tony has a private island, right?”

“We are not living on Stark’s island.” His answer accompanied by an incredulous snort, Bucky could only shake his head. “No way.”

“Okay where then?”

“Canada. The wilderness.”

“Canada!” Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “Bucky, hermits move to the Canadian wilderness.”

“Exactly,” Bucky huffed. “Do we technically qualify as hermits if we’re there together?”

“I think so, yeah,” Steve answered with another laugh. Neither said anything for a few minutes, but then Bucky finally broke the silence.

“Steve...? All those accounts you set up under false names...? Why'd you do it? I'm guessing Peggy helped you because those are really old. Why though?"

Steve's eyes flew open and wide. "How did you know about those?"

"Found them in your safe after you were taken." Bucky's face reddened with guilt over invading Steve's privacy. Steve's eyes were unreadable as he stared at Bucky. "I could say I was looking for clues as to how to find you, but mostly it was just... I wanted to know who you became after... I was being nosy. Sorry."

"Don't be," Steve answered, his fingers brushing through Bucky's hair near his temple. "I don't have anything to hide from you. I set them up because I had the naive hope that after the war ended we could take off and find a place in the world where we could be together and not have to worry about other people's stupidity. The guys turned a blind eye for us. I figured there had to be someplace where others would too..." He grinned almost sheepishly, his cheeks flushing pink. "Or we could just go be hermits somewhere."

Bucky thought over his words, a bit overwhelmed that Steve had actually wanted that. He'd been so sure that their time would only go so far as the war if they survived it; that Steve would pursue Peggy Carter and lock away what they'd shared for the sake of a normal life. He remembered how gutted he'd been seeing her picture inside Steve's compass and how hard he'd had to focus to keep his face from betraying him to the camera.

"You wanted that for us?"

"Yeah, I did."

"But... Peggy. You had her picture-

"I liked Peggy a lot, Buck, but there was only ever you. You ruined me for anyone else pretty early on," Steve admitted shyly. "The picture was propaganda. She was aware of it... and of you.

"She knew... about us?"

"She knew I loved you," Steve answered solemnly. It threw Bucky into a whole new round of emotional upheaval, though not negative in any way. He wasn't sure what to say at first, as his mind tried to process the stunning revelation. Once his heart settled a bit in his chest, what he needed Steve to know became much easier to put into words.

"I love you, too, Steve. I have forever and I always will. I’ll always protect you and nag at you and yell at you and kick your ass if I have to. I can’t help it. I don’t want to change it for anything.”

“I don’t want you to either, Buck.” Silence fell again and they let it, merely holding onto one another in the darkness. Steve reached down and gripped the wad of covers from the floor and pulled them over the bed. Bucky was just beginning to doze off when Steve’s voice roused him.

“So can we live by a lake and get one of those hydroplanes?”

Bucky pondered that and nodded finally. “Yeah. We could do that.”

“How ‘bout a couple of dogs?”

Bucky smiled against Steve’s shoulder. “I think all hermits have dogs, don’t they? Hell throw in a cabin cat too.”

More silence as Steve mulled it over in his head. This time Bucky remained awake, slowly tracing patterns over Steve’s stomach.

“Can we name the cat Tony?”

“Fuck no, Steve.”

“C’mon, it’ll drive Stark nuts.”

“No.”

The sound that erupted through the room from Steve as he threw his head back and laughed was easily the most amazing thing Bucky had heard in decades. He wanted to hear it every day for the rest of his life if he could.

“Okay,” Steve stated simply, causing Bucky to look up.

“Yeah…?”

Steve rolled them so he was leaning over Bucky, his face a breath away. “Solitude, cool plane, a lake, two dogs and a cat… I’m thinking Canada sounds fucking spectacular right now.”

“You gonna become Captain Canada then?”

Steve’s face grew serious and he shook his head. “Nah, Buck… Just a kid from Brooklyn that wants to be happy again someday.”

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, me too, Steve. Me too.”

“Canada then,” Steve grinned and it warmed Bucky straight through.

“Canada,” he agreed hopefully just before Steve pulled him into a searing kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Song excerpt: "Pull Me Under" by Winger, from the album Karma


End file.
